Prototype 13
by KiranDrawss
Summary: (AU) Richard needed a home. The Smiths' were gracious enough to provide one, and social workers don't pass up an opportunity like this. / Rick v. B-787
1. Part 1, Prototype 1

AN:

So this is an AU I made on deviantart a few days ago ( /art/The-adventures-of-Richard-and-Mortimer-591479965). I decided to release the first part since I'm already working on the second.

This is a mix High School and Foster kid AU because why not. I love both, and young Rick.

If I never finish this fic though do me a favor and just stab me kthx.

Enjoy kiddies.

* * *

The road seemed to be glowing from the amount of rain pattering down from the sky as Morty stared out of the dining room window in hopeful anticipation. Mom and Dad had said Richard was moving in today, a scruffy-looking boy from the Foster Care system. Morty was excited, even if nerves were shaking him to his core. He hoped he could make a good impression on Richard, for he hadn't met him in person yet, just seen pictures. The kid looked kind of mean, but his Dad reassured him he was "...alright". Good enough for him.

Summer only cared if the new kid was cool. Richard's room (originally a small guest bedroom) was nested right across the hall from hers, so she probably wanted a buddy parallel from her. Other than that, she seemed to be apathetic that a whole other person was going to enter the family, even when stealing the room she often had sleepovers in. Mom was excited, and Dad seemed unsure about the addition.

Regardless, he needed a home. The Smiths' were gracious enough to provide one, and social workers don't pass up an opportunity like this.

Morty sighed, forcing his nervous fidgeting to a stop as he pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. The rain made things look bleak, kind of unhappy, reflecting in Morty's empathy for the nature visible in front of him. The splatters of precipitation were striking against trees and leaves with great force, almost like bullets from a gun, and making them shutter in defiance; everything else looked just as nervous as he was.

The simple interest was soon taken over by the rushing past of a car that didn't slow down or stop in front of the house, but instead surprised him, making him jump a little. He pursed his lips in embarrassment, quickly looking around. Neither of the corridors around him stirred with movement, bringing him relief again. He reminded himself of a mouse, tiny and thus afraid of everything bigger. His ego stung a little.

In his moment of self-pity, the car finally pulled up, and once noticed, Morty bit his lip and shuffled toward the entryway that led into the Rose-colored hall. He reluctantly called out "H-he's here!" to the rest of the house, and the members of the family almost materialized in front of him immediately in an attempt to be the first impression. Beth was leading the charge, Summer watching curiously and Jerry hung back, seeming as if he were holding his breath. Morty was left behind to try and pry a glance from behind everyone.

Beth opened the door and greeted the couple coming up the walkway, bags in hand and rushing to avoid the threat of rain and wind. Once inside, the girls seemed to take the bags and suitcases and shuffle them off to the side while the teen in question grumbled and slicked his hair back on his head. Richard was tall and skinny, with his clothes hanging a bit loose on his scrawny frame. He unzipped the heavy leather jacket hung on himself to reveal a tanktop much more appropriate for Summer weather in the midwest, which went with his skinny jeans well. The stout worker accompanying him greeted the group before giving Beth and Jerry some slightly soggy papers and being on her way, wishing everyone good luck with getting to know each other, as well as tipping to Beth and Jerry that they'd have an appointment to check in soon. Richard seemed to flinch at the sound of the door closing behind her.

"So, Richard-" Beth began, before being cut off by a gruff tone.

"R-Rick, it's Rick." He corrected, eyebrows sinking a little at the mention of such a name. His tongue seemed to spit venom on the name in question, as he chewed on a toothpick. Geez, he was blunt.

"-Sorry, Rick. Hello again. Would you like to meet your foster brother and sister?" She smiled a little at him.

"I guess." His eyes wandered, picking apart the amount of pointless decorative items littered around, but still keeping a seemingly uncaring ear on the conversation in question.

"Good! Well, this is Summer..."

"Hey." She greeted, in the particular fashion she usually did to everyone. It didn't go unnoticed by Rick, but upon scanning her frame, he became aware she seemed to be a typical type of teen. He ignored her passive attention-seeking tone, but responded by waving with sarcasm in her general direction. As a result, her eyes narrowed, and he knew his hypothesis was correct. AVOID.

"And this would be- Morty, come here." Beth prompted, gesturing with her head for him to move forward.

In Morty's head it took him a while for him to approach the stranger before mustering up the courage to wave. "H-hi." He greeted, looking down afterward and 'fixing' the hem of his shirt.

He didn't see it, but an eyebrow on Rick raised. "Hey kid." He tossed forward, shoving his hands in his pockets in indifference. He was done here.

"Where am I crashing?" He asked, wanting to change the subject as well as just be alone for a while. He had a thousand things on his mind and wanted to write them down.

"Right this way! Morty, can you help take Rich-Rick's stuff upstairs?" She asked, Summer already on her way up with three bags in hand.

"U-uh, sure..." Morty was left with a suitcase that was carried in by Rick. It was a bit slick, but he grabbed ahold fine. Lifting, however, was not what he was strong at. Sweat beaded his forehead as he struggled to pick up the bag, self-conscious about not being able to.

Rick sighed, taking it himself and lifting it easily before going on his way upstairs. Morty watched in awe. He wondered what was in there, weights? It felt like it. Rick didn't seem like the type of kid who did much working out, though. He slumped against the railing in defeat before his Dad pat his back.

"I know how you feel, son." He uttered, before also heading upstairs.

This might be a little bit harder than expected.

* * *

As soon as Rick entered the room in question, he found himself liking the space. It was a simple, darkly-painted room with carpet covering the floor. There was a desk in place and a chest of drawers, as well as a space for a bed. Most kids would probably winge about how "boring" it looked, but he could care less. Beth behind him was waiting for a hint of how he felt about it, but he simply turned around and opened one of his bags to pull out a cot.

"Oh, you don't have to sleep on that, we're ordering a bed for you-"

"S-save the money, Beth." He deadpanned, shaking off his leather jacket and tossing it in a corner in order to adjust the cot better. "I like this thing better."

"O-oh, alright then.." She smiled. "Well, do you want help unpacking, or do you want to settle in yourself?" She was clearly eager to help. He turned it down.

"I-I-I'm good miss Smith. Thanks though." He smiled a little at her, testing something in his mind.

"Okay. Have fun setting up! If you need anything, just yell." She shooed the other family members away and they all dispersed to their respective spaces, he supposed, including the needy teen girl across the hall. That was going to be fun.

The teen unpacked his cot and slid it into a corner by the door, tossing a blanket and pillow onto the mattress haphazardly. He then opened the chest of drawers and stuffed whatever clothing he could fit into the compartments without care, leaving the rest for miscellaneous experiments and other junk.

Unpacking then grew boring, and he sat on his cot, looking around the room. He couldn't wait for the rest of his junk to arrive. Half of them were his experiments and gadgets, but he did bring one of his most prized inventions with him. He dug up the bag out of the pile (the same one the twink earlier had a hard time with) and unzipped it with a bit of enthusiasm. Inside, there was a tub of materials he'd taken from the shelter and a sealed box. He was about to pick it up when there was a small rap in the doorway of his new room.

Morty was watching him look through the bag and smiled nervously. "A-anything I can help with?" He prompted, searching for any sign of friendliness from the teen.

Rick pursed his lips. This one was needy too, pathetically so, but there seemed to be a certain naivety to him that you just don't get anywhere else.

"N-no." He stuttered, pulling the box out of the bag at his feet and rising to place it on the desk parallel to where his cot sat. He thought the boy might go away, but he was persistent.

"Wha-wha-what's in the bag, by the way? Whatever it was, i-it was really-really heavy..." The shorter stepped over the threshold of the doorway, though reluctant to enter the room fully, since he hadn't been asked to come in or anything.

Rick rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Go-go play with your dick or something, okay? I'm busy." He hoped Morty would take the hint and screw off if he came on strong. He picked the box's seal; some duct tape he'd lifted several months before now, successfully finding the edge of the tape and pulling it off with care for the materials inside.

Morty raised an eyebrow. "A-are they weights or something?" He prompted, confused by Rick's defensiveness about the mystery pack.

"No, go." Rick jabbed, lifting the lid of the box in front of him and picking out some scattered machinery and parts before setting the whole singular project on the desk, which was currently a mish-mash of parts carefully constructed and tightened together, in an effort to serve a singular purpose. It was only the first prototype, but it was much more advanced than anything he'd made before. It was a gun. Not like the guns he'd made before - which could only shoot miscellaneous non-fatal materials - but a portal gun. He'd been working on the math for months (almost a year by now) and he had it all figured out. All he had to do was figure out the mechanics.

Morty flinched at Rick's harshness toward him about the contents of the bag. Maybe it was something personal and he shouldn't pry. Regardless, he felt rejected. Hurt, the fourteen year old left without another word, leaving the young genius to his tinkering.


	2. Part 2

**AN:** Hey guys!  
Don't have much to say about this one. I just kinda love the end. I can't wait to write more.  
I hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

It was going on a month now, and Rick was fully moved in, though his bedroom had yet to show it. Piles of boxes were stacked into corners, clothes were thrown on the floor, papers littered the room. Beth never complained, eager to please.  
Because she never complained, it was rare he attended school, ether. For the first few days, he came and went, but more often than not he was found "learning on his own" in his room, as she put it.  
Rick was shitty though, and it didn't feel like he deserved this special treatment. The older teen was often found sparring with Jerry about how much of an idiot he was, while the middle aged man had little to no means to defend his intelligence. Morty found it unfair, but he didn't want to judge, as much as it made him mad. He wanted to remain neutral, hopefully give balance. Mom had told him (after a particular angry outburst at breakfast) that Rick probably went through a difficult time before he was put into foster care, and Morty wanted to do his best to understand why Rick would act that way, rather than put the blame on him. It seemed like the right way to go.

Today in particular, however, things were going to change. Morty was looking through his locker before class, when the locker seemed to close in his face, surprising him. He practically jumped out of his skin, looking next to him and catching on that Rick was there, eyes wide as if begging for help.

"Morty, I-I-I-I need to get some stuff out of the science lab."

"Wha-what?" Morty's face twisted in confusion. Rick hadn't spoke to him in weeks, not in conversation anyway. What could possibly be so urgent?

"Mister Abernathy won't let me at the chemical cupboard until I pass his bullshit "science safety procedures"." Physical air quotes were paired with an eyeroll. "You-you've gotta help me get in there! I need those materials! That test is a waste of time. I already know how to handle them, I'm-I'm-I'm not stupid." He rattled off, gesturing wildly. It took a second for Morty to see what Rick meant.

"Y-you want to take chemicals? Wh-wh-why?" Morty's face showed that of confusion. It made Morty nervous whenever he was being pressured to break the rules, he never felt right doing it.

"Pretty obvious, Morty. Science stuff. Now you-you wanna help me or are you a pussy?" He put his hands on his hips.

"I-I guess it's what you'd be looking for, if- you know, you needed it for-for science... but... stealing is wrong, Rick. Especially from school. What-what if we get caught?"

Rick rolled his eyes a second time, as if it were the stupidest thing to ever be uttered. "Sure, buddy. Yeah. You in or out? Come on."

Morty twiddled his thumbs in thought for a beat, before nodding. "Fine... but if I help-help you do this, you've gotta tell me what the stuff you're stealing is for."

Rick let out a groan, pinching his nose for a second as other oblivious students walked past. "Fine, I guess. Come on, let's get there before the bell, alright? Time is ticking."

"You-you gonna tell me, Rick?"

"Not in public, Morty. Late-later. Come the fuck on." He grabbed Morty's arm and began tugging him along, before Morty finally complied to come with, ringing his hands.

* * *

The class was empty currently, Mister Abernathy was at lunch break. They had about five minutes to get the chemicals and get out. Rick quickly pulled a bobby pin from his pocket and picked the class's door lock with ease. Morty watched, amazed behind him.

"Wow.. wh-where did you learn to do that?" He asked, watching Rick open the door.

"I dabble." Rick said simply, waving the question away. Once inside the classroom, he turned to Morty. "Okay, so I'm gonna need you to look out the window and watch for mister Abernathy. If you see him coming, warn me and we'll both run, got it?"

"B-but Rick, where will we run?" Morty inquired, nerves really settling in.

"Just trust me. Okay, go." Rick pulled a drawstring bag out of a pocket in his jacket and went over to the cupboard, while Morty reluctantly began watching out the window. A few teenagers passed, oblivious to the science class being broken into. Morty began to calm as no threats came up with each passing minute. The sound of Rick looting the chemical cupboard in the distance still making his stomach twinge, however hard he tried to relax upon Rick's urging. It felt wrong, yet he played the lookout without complaint, hoping to get on his good side. They were supposed to be a family, after all. He started playing with the hem of his shirt to try and calm down subconciously.

Rick was muttering to himself as he pulled several bottles and other containers from the cupboard shelves, taking enough time to compile some extras and afterthoughts into the bag. After nothing else caught his interest, he quickly did up the bag and swung it over his shoulder swiftly.

"Okay, Pinky." He declared, heading toward the door. "Let's goooo."

"W-wait, Rick!" Morty stammered, eyes wide. "He's coming!"

"Shit!" Rick exclaimed, darting down to look out the window of the door to see the science teacher approaching, keys in hand. Rick thought on his feet, closing the curtain on the pane between the two before unlocking the door, which would buy them a small amount of time.

"Come on!"

Morty nearly tripped over himself as Rick instantly began running for the other end of the classroom, opening the window and flinging the bag onto the ground from where he was. The distance from the ground floor of the building and the ground outside was not drastic, and he quickly jumped out onto the grass before encouraging Morty to jump along with him. Morty made it halfway out before there were the sound of angry shouts from Abernathy and signs that he was fast-approaching Morty. Rick instantly picked up the bag off the ground and began running as fast as he could, little to his knowledge, his assistant wasn't dragging behind. Upon reaching the end of the next block away from the school, Morty tripped and had an impromptu rest on the ground where he did, with Rick screeching to a halt to notice him. Not many people kept up with him, or were able to. Morty must do a lot of running.

"D-did-did... we lose... h-him?" Morty asked through huffs of breath, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. Rick regained his composure.

"Y-yeah. I-I-I think so." He answered, looking around. "We gotta keep moving, though. If he recognized you or me we could be in trouble." He waved his hand as a "get up" motion before walking at a brisk pace toward the house. Morty stood again and followed suit, still panting.

"You-you-you weren't... going... to leave me, ...right?" Morty asked, brow furrowing. He hadn't failed to notice that after Abernathy came in, Rick had started running without anything holding him back.

"Uh-huh, s-sure buddy." Rick took longer walking strides as he fished something out of a pocket in his jacket, and Morty attempted to pick up the pace as well, even though his lungs felt like they were bursting into flame.

"Wha-what's that... supposed to mean?!" He spoke through the restrictions of his breath, though he was angry. "I-it's not fair that... that you just get to...-to fuck me over, ...es-especially after I helped you!" Morty's hands curled into fists, but he was interrupted by Rick stopping in place, which in turn had him misstep and stop as well, looking back curiously.

Rick put the bag down and stuck a cigarette in his mouth before lighting it with a silver square flick-lighter. He puffed it a moment before speaking, picking up the bag once again. "L-look kid, don't think that just because I needed your help means I think any more of you. I-I could've _**easily**_ asked **_anyone_** else. You don't know me, and you'll probably never know me. Quit acting like a little bitch, I don't owe you anything, Morty." His words were filled with smoke and icy indifference as he continued walking home. "Gotta look out for number one. It's the only thing that matters."

Morty frowned, silently angry at the idea that selfish survival was the only thing that mattered. At the time, he really disagreed with the older teen. He would soon come to think the same way.

* * *

When they made it back to the residence, Morty's huffing and puffing as well as the pouting he was doing (for the most part) had diminished. No one was home, so they walked in the front door with ease. Rick didn't bother removing his boots as he traveled through the dining room and kitchen before swinging open the door of the garage. He started coming in here more and more often, a habit Morty noticed over the past few days.

"O-okay, you promised you'd tell me why y-you need the stuff from Science." Morty pushed, leftover annoyance bubbling into his voice.

Rick sighed and stomped out the cigarette on the garage's asphalt floor before placing the drawstring on the table, pulling out a few containers and spreading them out on the table.

"All this stuff makes a thing I need." Rick asked, sitting down on a spinning stool he stole from Jerry, along with a toolbox on the desk that he assumed Jerry owned. It's contents looked pretty much brand-new when he opened it. "I've already got the math figured out, but I-I-I need to mix the chemicals to come up with the substance that'll keep it running, or else I won't be able to make the thing properly. Got that?" As he said this, he fished the prototype gun out of his pocket and placed it down on the table before removing his leather jacket. He tossed it aside, crumpled and worn from the heat outside.

Morty looked at the invention he'd placed down, more interested in that than anything. It was made of what looked like little russet brown pipes, all threading through each other in an intricate pattern. The weapon's barrel ended in a wide point, much unlike the handle, which grew narrower, and in the middle of it all, in the same place parallel to the trigger (in the form of a rubber button), there was a dome of what looked like glass, as well as some wires. Morty grew worried, but awed by what Rick had made with such little time here. The weapon looked like it would take years to make.

"I-I-I-Is t-that a gun?" Morty squeaked, concerned for his safety all over again.

"Focus, Morty. These chemicals, when mixed with electricity, can charge together and make more electricity. And with that, I can make portals."

Portals? Why? He scratched behind his head in confusion. "I-I guess that makes sense. B-but why?"

"So I can come and go as I please? T-think about it, Morty. I could go all kinds of places." He looked up at the ceiling and gave a smirk of satisfaction. "It'd be amazing."

Morty gave a small smile. It would be kinda cool, he thought. He pulled up a chair next to Rick and watched as he explained more of how it worked, resting against the desk in the garage. Rick went on and on as he tightened parts of the gun and eventually also tested on the chemicals reactions to heat and electricity. It was interesting to watch Rick work. He was a genius, if he ever saw one, that was for sure. He felt as if he were learning by just being around him.

They spent a long time in the garage together, testing out reactions, prototypes, etcetera. Hours passed like minutes in the time they took, before they once again split up in order to end the day. Morty had to go to school tomorrow, so he left awkwardly.

Maybe bringing Morty along for the ride wouldn't be so bad after all, Rick thought.


End file.
